


If it means a lot to you

by daenyara



Series: James Bucky Barnes / Sebastian Stan ONE-SHOTS [6]
Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Biker AU, Biker Bucky, F/M, Implied Sexual Content, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Mild Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-24
Updated: 2020-04-24
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:15:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23819047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daenyara/pseuds/daenyara
Summary: Bucky is afraid to let you meet his friends.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Reader
Series: James Bucky Barnes / Sebastian Stan ONE-SHOTS [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1204150
Comments: 1
Kudos: 53





	If it means a lot to you

**Author's Note:**

> this art (https://daenyara.tumblr.com/post/184376664826/dirtytomatoed-been-seeing-a-lot-of-au-biker-art) by @dirtytomatoed on tumblr was a HUGE inspiration!

“Why haven’t you introduced me to your friends?”

Your question lingers in the dim light of your apartment as you stretch with a groan, reaching out to touch the empty spot on the other side of the bed. Bucky appears at the bathroom door, wearing just his tight black jeans. His hair is still damp from the shower, and a few droplets of water run down his neck, over the intricate tattoos that cover most of his body.

There’s a dark charm to him, it always takes your breath away. Sometimes you’re in awe of the effect he has on you. 

Bucky notices you staring at him and smirks, his eyes glinting knowingly. 

“Sorry, babe. What?” he says as he casually leans against the doorjamb, flashing you an innocent expression.

“Your friends,” you repeat with a soft laugh, sitting up and draping the warm covers around your shoulders. “I haven’t met any of them.”

“Oh…” His smugness suddenly gone from his face, Bucky’s eyes darken for a moment, but he cracks another smile at you. “I’m sure we can make it happen soon.”

You should let it go. But part of you says you can’t, not this time,  _ not again _ .

“You always say that,” you insist. There’s a flash of something in his eyes ⎼  _ guilt, maybe? _ ⎼ so you try to lighten the mood. “Do they even know I exist? Don’t they ever ask you why you never have to take a shower in your own apartment?”

Bucky chuckles along with you, shaking his head. “Actually, there was a bit of confusion as to why my hair always smells like roses, lately,” he teases, crossing the room in a few strides and joining you on the bed. He sighs, cupping your cheek and stroking it tenderly with his thumb. “Of course they know you exist. I talk about you  _ all the damn time _ ,” he assures you, and he’s looking at you with such adoration that for a moment you forgot what you were even discussing. 

Just for a moment, though.

“Then why?” you ask again, a small frown appearing on your forehead.

“Why what?”

“Why do you know all my friends but I don’t even know the names of your friends?”

Bucky huffs, his hand still warm against your face while he traces the creases between your eyes as if trying to smooth them with his touch. “Sweetheart, you’re overthinking this. It just hasn’t happened, yet. But you’ll meet them, I promise,” he shrugs, and it hits you.

“ _ You’re ashamed of me. _ ” 

You say it quietly, matter-of-factly. Almost like it’s not that big of a deal, even though you can already feel your heart burning for how much it hurts.

His eyes go wide, his hand immediately dropping from your face as he stares at you with his jaw slack. “What are you talking about?”

“It’s fine, Buck. I think it’s funny,” you assure him, plastering a cheerful smile on your face. “And I get it, you don’t have to apologize.”

Your throat aches from choking back the tears, but you ignore it. 

Bucky stays silent for a second, then shakes his head.

“Y/n, if I ever made you feel like you’re anything less than  _ fuckin’ perfect _ then I may have to apologize for the rest of my life,” he growls, grabbing your hands and locking his eyes with yours. He looks angry, but not at you. More like he’s angry at himself. He presses his lips together, before continuing. “I could never ⎼  _ never _ ⎼ be ashamed of you. You hear me, sweetheart?” He waits until you nod, then he places one soft kiss on your lips and lets out a sharp breath. “Where is this coming from?”

“I’m not cool like you and your friends,” you blurt out, and you can see he’s about to interrupt so you raise a hand. “Please, let me finish.” He has that fire in his eyes, but grunts and nod, gaze trained on you as he listens carefully. You take a deep breath. “I don’t ride a motorcycle. I’m scared to get tattoos. Breaking any kind of rule gives me a stomachache. I need to see Pride & Prejudice  _ at least _ once a month and it makes me cry  _ every _ time, and I’m the kind of person who apologizes whenever bumping into someone.” He snorts, and you can’t help but join him. Your hands are still laced with his, and you squeeze them gently, smiling at him. “So, I get why you wouldn’t want me to meet your badass biker friends. I probably wouldn’t fit in, anyway. But they’re part of your life, just like I am. Meeting them is important to me.”

He considers your words for a moment, then his mouth curves into the sweetest smile you’ve ever seen, and shit, you’re smitten with this man. He jumps on his feet and picks up your clothes, discarded all over the floor, before tossing them in your direction.

“Then let’s go. Get dressed, I’ll take you to them.”

Your face lights up. “Really?”

He chuckles at the surprise in your voice. He’ll be damned, you can really be  _ blind _ sometimes…

“Baby doll, have you considered that  _ maybe _ I love all those things you listed? That the fact that you’re nothing like me and my friends is actually the main reason why I love you?” He notices your small gasp at his words and grins. “That’s right, I  _ love _ you.  _ So damn much _ ,” he adds, and you could swear you’ve never felt this lightheaded before, nor this happy. Bucky looks at you like you’re the only sun he’s ever known. “I like that you scold me whenever I jaywalk, and the fact that you made a colour-coded bullet list to decide whether to go out with me or not. You’re weird and crazy and funny and smart, in every way I’m not, and you’re  _ fucking spectacular. _ I don’t worry about my friends not liking you, no one sane could ever dislike you.”

You’re speechless, throat dry, all the words vanished from your mind and tears shimmering in the corners of your eyes. Bucky will do that to you. Whenever you think you couldn’t love him more, he finds a way to prove you wrong. 

A shaky laugh escapes your lips while you rub your eyes to wipe away the tears. You stand up from the bed, the sheets sliding off your body as you throw yourself in his arms, and he wraps them around you, shielding your bare skin from the night air.

You stay like that for a while, sighing contentedly in his embrace, then you move your head just enough to meet his gaze. “Then what are you worried about?” you ask him softly.

Bucky bites down his bottom lip, studying your expression. “I hate the idea of you entering my world and being disgusted,” he admits. 

He looks sad, and terrified. It breaks your heart a little bit.

“What are you talking about?”

He closes his eyes, exhaling sharply, and you press your forehead against his to encourage him. “Look… I live in a crappy place with two other guys. My bed is literally a bunch of pillows thrown on the floor, and it always smells like oil cause I spend most of my time in the garage. It sucks. But those guys, they’re  _ my family _ . I would die for them, as I would for you.”

From the way look in his eyes, you don’t doubt it.

“And you’re what, afraid I’m going to dump you if I don’t like them?” You roll your eyes, cupping his face and forcing him to meet your gaze. “Buck, I  _ told _ you. Your friends, your home, they’re part of who you are. If they’re important to  _ you _ , then they’re important to  _ me _ .”

You watch him mulling over your words for a moment, then his expression brightens. “How’d I get so lucky?”

He gives you a kiss. And then  _ another _ . 

Soon you’re pressed against the mattress, giggling while Bucky peppers every inch of your body with small pecks. You glance at the alarm clock on your bedstand, smirking.

“Soooo…. are we  _ really _ going to your place at 5 in the morning?”

You hear Bucky’s groan against your neck, his hot breath tickling your skin. 

He hums when you dig your fingers through his hair, tugging gently. “Why don’t we make it 6? Or maybe 10,” he murmurs, and you laugh, pushing him on his back and straddling him before pressing your lips against his.


End file.
